


Dust and Ashes

by TheBeckster



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Genre: F/M, Prequel, Rebellion Leader AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeckster/pseuds/TheBeckster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When your father left, he didn't know your mother was pregnant. Your mother and I knew he would find out eventually, but we wanted to keep you both as safe as possible, for as long as possible." - Obi-Wan Kenobi<br/>Or<br/>The Awesome Rebellion Leader Padme Amidala AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, look at that. Becky wrote something! Of course instead of working on and completing some of my WIPs I started a whole new multi-chapter story.  
> Got this idea back sometime last December or January. I was reading through the Star Wars novelizations and came across this little quote and my brain went full stop, and said "OMG what would things have been like if that's how the prequels went?"  
> And thus this wonderful Rebellion Leader Padme Amidala AU was born!  
> I've been picking at it and working on it since then. I have the beginning done. I have the ending done. And I have most of the middle bits I want to happen planned out. So I might actually finish this one. It's been competing for attention with another Star Wars AU my brain cooked up in my nervous pre-first-day-at-a-new-job-insomnia back in March. I'll get around to posting that one eventually too.  
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this! At least somewhat as much as I've enjoyed writing and "researching' for it. (And by researching, I mean just rewatching all of Clone Wars and Rebels)  
> As always, Read, Review, and Enjoy!  
> -The Beckster

> _“When your father left, he didn’t know your mother was pregnant. Your mother and I knew he would find out eventually, but we wanted to keep you both as safe as possible, for as long as possible.”_
> 
> -Obi-Wan Kenobi, _Return of the Jedi_ novelization

 

**Dust and Ashes**

 

 

**Chapter 1**

Anakin started awake in a cold sweat. His heart pounding, he buried his face in his shaking hands. That dream... that nightmare. It was awful. He dug his palms into his eyes, trying to press out the vision. He didn't want to see that anymore. He couldn't see Padmé's body lying there, a blaster hole clear through her chest.  He couldn’t see her crumpled on the floor, not breathing, her neck heavily bruised. He couldn’t look at the shocked, pained expression on her face when a lightsaber cut through her heart. He couldn’t watch any of the many ways Padmé could die.

Why? Why was he seeing visions of Padmé’s death? She was safe, healthy, and well protected on Coruscant. He had just seen her a few weeks ago, nothing could have happened – he would know. Nothing had changed, right?

Anakin growled in frustration. He _wouldn’t_ know if something had happened to Padmé, not immediately at least. He and Obi-Wan were on another indeterminately long string of missions in the Outer Rim. Who knew when they’d be sent back to Coruscant, it could be months! And it wasn’t like he and Padmé had direct communication either. A Jedi and a Senator with a private com-line… that wouldn’t be the least bit suspicious.

He was tired of all this hiding!

Anakin wanted to just shake off his worries as nothing more than a bad dream, but he knew it wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a vision brought to him by the Force. Like he had before his mother...

_No! Not again!_

His thoughts turned to the final vision he had, the most vivid one. The lightsaber. It had been blue, like his own, like Obi-Wan’s, like so many other Jedi’s. They couldn’t possibly hurt Padmé, or _kill_ her.

Could they?

 

**XXXXX**

 

Padmé frowned as she swallowed a rising wave of nausea. She studied her senate pod screen intently, hiding her discomfort. She'd been feeling ill all day after waking up early from a strange nightmare – she couldn't remember it, but Anakin had been involved. It seemed she had caught that stomach bug that was making its way through the Senate. Padmé’s stomach churned. She was glad she hadn’t been able to eat breakfast this morning or else it would certainly be making a reappearance. She would definitely see a med droid after this and get some medicine. She didn’t have time to be sick.

Fortunately, the Senate building had a small clinic with a handful of med droids, should a senator or other visiting dignitary fall ill. Padmé requested one to be sent to her office as soon as the session ended and it was waiting for her when she got there.

“Good afternoon, Senator, I am MD-108 at your service. How may I assist you today?” it greeted her in a cool, professional voice.

“I just need some anti-nausea medicine. I think I’ve caught the stomach bug that’s been going around recently,” Padmé explained as she sat across from the hovering droid. She sat compliantly as it took her temperature, pulse, blood pressure, and other vitals.

“Of course, Senator, that virus has been bothering many humans in recent weeks. Though I must ask, is there a chance you might be pregnant?” The med droid reached into one of its many compartments with one of its many arms, pulling out a small pill dispenser.

“No, of course not.” Padmé shook her head. This was not a surprising question; every med droid and every doctor always asked, one of the joys of being a woman.

“Of course, Senator.” The med droid handed Padmé the pill dispenser. “Take one pill as needed, but do not exceed eight pills per day. The virus should clear up within a few days. If you are still experiencing symptoms after seven days, please seek further medical attention.”

Padmé thanked the med droid, and without further ado it hovered out of her office. She immediately took one of the pills. It dissolved on her tongue and left a bitter taste in her mouth, she chased it with a small sip of water.

Padmé looked at her schedule, she had a couple free hours for a mid-day break, but she really couldn’t afford to take the rest of the day off. She’d have to see how well the medicine worked. With a small sigh, she lay down on her couch and closed her eyes, waiting to feel better.

Her mind kept going back to the med droid asking if she was pregnant. It was unlikely, but not entirely impossible. Anakin _had_ been home just a few weeks ago, and she had missed her period. Though, that wasn’t a cause for concern. Padmé’s cycle had always been irregular; she often missed one or two at a time. And the nausea, that was most likely due to the stomach bug. She had been to a large senate dinner a few days back, and several of the senators there came down with the same bug. On top of that, she and Anakin had always been painstakingly careful. A surprise pregnancy was definitely not something either of the wanted to deal with. Not to mention she always felt a little sick when Anakin was off planet – worry would do that.

No, she wasn’t pregnant. She had been through this song and dance before. She’d experienced the ups and downs of worrying and wondering, the fear and excitement fighting in her heart. She had several scares when she and Anakin had first been married, rushing for a test if she was a day late or felt a little queasy. They always came back negative. She knew better by now.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Padmé waited anxiously in the shadows, hiding behind one of the massive columns of the Senate Building’s landing platforms. She couldn’t wait to see Anakin. He’d only been gone about eight weeks, but it felt like an age. On top of that, he had just finished storming Grevious’ flag ship to rescue Chancellor Palpatine. She had to see for herself that he was alright. Being married to a war hero was not easy on her nerves; he got sent into all the most dangerous missions.

She watched Anakin quietly excuse himself from the gaggle of senators who had swarmed him to congratulate him on his daring rescue and to dote over the Supreme Chancellor. He ran to her and swept her up in a tight embrace.

“I’m so happy to see you’re alright,” he whispered, reluctantly letting her go.

Padmé laughed lightly, once. “Why wouldn’t I be alright? I’m not the one running headlong into battle every day.” She reached up to cup Anakin’s face in her hands. Some of his tension melted away into a small smile as he leaned into her touch.

“It’s nothing. I’ve just been having persistent nightmares recently, that’s all.”

“Ah, I see.” Padmé pulled Anakin down for a quick kiss. “I know you have to go see the Jedi Council, and I have to go see the Chancellor. But tonight, we’ll see if I can’t chase those nightmares away, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.” Anakin reluctantly pulled away from his wife. The Council would be waiting on him, and the sooner he got that over with the sooner he could go home.

Padmé watched him go. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him she might be pregnant. After all it was still so early, and it hadn’t been officially confirmed yet. And with the end of the war within reach, maybe she should wait a little longer. Anakin couldn’t afford to lose his focus, and who knew how he would take the news.

No it probably would be best to wait. It would be a nice surprise after the end of the war. After all, she and the baby weren’t going anywhere.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Padmé was scared for Anakin, terrified. In the short time he had been home after rescuing Palpatine he had changed. It was like he was a different person sometimes. His temper was always close to boiling, he was stressed, he was shutting people out. He was shutting Padmé out.

It was his nightmares, the ones of her death. He said they were just like the ones he had about his mother, but beyond that, he wouldn’t talk about them. He wasn’t sleeping much anymore either. Padmé could feel him tossing and turning all night.

She tried to get him to talk about it, with her, with Obi-Wan, with Master Yoda. Anakin refused, talking about that was too close to revealing their secrets. Padmé privately thought it was worth it if it would help Anakin. She tried getting him to talk to a med droid, or one of the healers at the Temple to see if they could help him sleep. He refused that too.

Padmé could see Anakin was nearing his breaking point, and she was helpless to stop that from happening.

How could she convince Anakin that his visions of her deaths were just bad dreams, that they weren’t going to come true, when she couldn’t know for certain? Her life had been in danger many times during the war, and she had many dangerous enemies. And … Anakin’s visions about his mother had been true, who could say that his visions about Padmé weren’t true?

But Padmé couldn’t live the rest of her life on edge, waiting for her imminent death to strike at any given moment. She wouldn’t resign herself to an inevitable end.  She couldn’t live like that, it would drive her mad. It was already driving Anakin mad.

These thoughts flooded her mind as she paced and watched from her veranda. Smoke had begun to rise from the Jedi Temple. The orange glow of flames lit the night sky. Were the Jedi under attack? Was it another bombing? Who would dare attack the Temple? Was Anakin alright?

Steeling herself, Padmé made a decision. She had to help. She had to help the Jedi. There were younglings and elders in the Temple, if she could get some out and to safety… she had to try!

Padmé turned quickly; ready to march down to her speeder, but her apartment doors opened before she could move more than a step. Captain Typho and several security officers stepped in.

“Apologies, M’Lady, but we are under a state of emergency. The Jedi have rebelled at the Temple and the Supreme Chancellor was attacked in his office. For your protection, you must stay in your apartments.”

“The Chancellor was attacked? By whom?”

“By Jedi, M’Lady.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Padmé was stunned. The Jedi served the Republic, Democracy. There was no way they would attack the Chancellor or start a rebellion from the Temple.

“That is the report coming from the Chancellor’s office. No other parties have spoken up yet.”

“Captain, there are younglings and elders in the Temple, surely they’re safe.”

“I’m afraid I cannot say. Clone troopers have quarantined the Temple. Nobody goes in or out. Though I’m certain the younglings are not being held in suspicion of rebellion.”

Padmé turned away from Typho, her eyes returning to the smoldering Temple. The air space around it was clear of all speeders; nothing approached, nothing left. There weren’t even emergency vehicles around to fight the flames. Then her gaze moved over to the Senate building; there was an unusual amount of traffic swarming around it for the hour.

“This is highly disturbing, Captain.”

“Indeed it is, M’Lady,” Typho agreed, gravely. He was clearly suspicious of the current events as well.

“Thank you for the information, Captain. You may leave me.”

“If you’ll excuse me, Senator, I want guards posted in your apartment and outside your door.”

“Guards outside my door will be adequate, Captain.” Typho gave her a meaningful look, she knew that look. “I have no means of escape up here, Captain. I will not leave without an escort, I promise.”

“As you wish, M’Lady,” Typho gave a short bow and he and his officers left the apartment. Padmé could hear him giving orders as the doors closed. She returned to the balcony, helpless but to watch the Temple burn.

It wasn’t long before she saw a speeder approaching in the dark – no, not a speeder, a small Jedi fighter. Anakin! He barely made it out of the cockpit before Padmé was in his arms, holding him tight.

“Are you alright? What happened at the Temple? I can see the smoke from here. How did you escape?”

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Anakin assured her, leading her inside. “The Jedi have betrayed the Republic, Master Windu tried to assassinate the Chancellor.”

“No,” Padmé gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. It… it _couldn’t_ be true.

“I can’t stay,” Anakin muttered. “I’ve been given the opportunity to finally end this war. The Separatist leaders are on Mustafar, the Chancellor wants me to lead the final negotiations with them.”

“Oh, Anakin, finally, an end to this war!” Padmé smiled weakly, there was light in the future. “This will be a bright day for the Republic.”

“The Republic is dead, it was a poisoned institution built by the Jedi. It has fallen with the Jedi Order.”

“I don’t understand, Anakin, _you’re_ a Jedi.”

“No, not anymore. I’m beyond the Jedi, and soon I’ll have the power to save you from my nightmares, Padmé.”

Her smile fell. Anakin was back on his obsession with power, his need to save her from an uncertain fate. Back into his madness. It struck fear and unease deep into Padmé’s heart. When he talked like that it… it wasn’t Anakin.

But once he returned from Mustafar, with the signed peace treaty and the Separatists leaders in custody, all would be well.

Anakin had to change to survive this war; Padmé understood that, even if she didn’t like the person he had to be sometimes. War-Anakin was ruthless, he was cold and calculating, everything was black or white, he acted first, he acted quickly, and he had no regrets. It was a far cry from the man he truly was, but now that the war was over she would get her husband back.

Padmé pulled Anakin in for a passionate kiss. “Stay safe, come home soon.”

Anakin parted with a heartfelt “I love you” then his ship disappeared into the night.

**XXXXX**

 

Padmé was not surprised when an emergency Senate session was called as soon as dawn broke. She attended dutifully, though she didn’t want to be there. She hadn’t slept at all that night, and she was feeling sick again. Hearing Palpatine talk about the fall of the Republic and the excising of the cancerous tumor that had been the Jedi Order didn’t help her feel any better.

It just didn’t make sense. She knew the Jedi, they were her friends, they cared as much for the protection of freedom and democracy as she did. Why would they attempt to assassinate Palpatine?

Yes, Palpatine had far overreached his power limit, with the majority of the Republic cheering him on all the way. He no doubt wanted the war to last as long as possible so he could remain in power. Padmé was one of many in the Senate who believed strongly that Palpatine had long overstayed his welcome as Supreme Chancellor. It was time for him to step down. She had been very vocal in her feelings on this, and she knew many Jedi felt the same. But there were proper ways to go about dethroning Palpatine, and assassination was not one of them. The Jedi knew that, why would they attempt an assassination? It didn’t make sense.

A chill ran up Padmé’s spine. She had openly challenged Palpatine, in person, demanding he step down from power when the war was over, threatening to take action if he did not comply. Would she be safe?

She and Palpatine had been something akin to friends once. He had been one of her strongest supporters when she was Queen, and he had been her and Naboo’s advocate in the Senate when the Trade Federation laid siege to their home. That relationship had deteriorated since he became Supreme Chancellor, and even more so as Padmé began challenging his powers.

Would he consider her a threat to his new regime? Would he have her imprisoned? Anakin was close to Palpatine; he would speak on her behalf, but would his word be enough? Or would Anakin have to reveal his secret to keep his wife and unborn child safe?

These questions and uncertainties did not help Padmé feel any better.

Bail Organa slipped into her pod and sat down next to her. He looked as sick and pale as she felt.

“Where have you been?”

“I was off planet, hoping to intercept any Jedi before they walked into a trap here.” He whispered tersely. “Last night I went to the Temple to help. I saw clones gunning down young padawans.”

“No… that’s not-“

“The clones turned on the Jedi; thousands stormed the temple. Reports from all over the galaxy are coming in. Any war zone where there was a Jedi, the clones turned on them. They executed them, and we don’t know why, but the goal was to kill all of the Jedi.”

“It was Palpatine,” Padmé whispered faintly. “He’s been providing evidence against the Jedi Order for hours. He blames them for the war, for the decline of the Republic.”

“There were many things wrong with the Republic, but the Jedi were not one of them,” Bail spat, glaring at Palpatine.

“I know…”

Both senators trailed off as Palpatine’s speech crescendoed; clearly he was reaching the end. Bail’s frown only deepened.

“Can we really let him get away with this?”

“We don’t have a choice. Vocal protestors have already been forcibly removed by guards. It’s comply or die.”

“This makes me sick,” Bail growled.

“Me too.”

And finally, Palpatine declared that from the ashes of the old Republic would rise the new Galactic Empire. Padmé couldn’t help but comment bitterly on the death of liberty as around her almost everyone rose to their feet cheering for Palpatine. Bail made a noise in agreement, not trusting his tongue to hold if he opened his mouth.

After a few minutes, the applause staying at a loud roar, Padmé stood up to leave. It was clear the assembly was over. “I can’t take any more of this.”

Bail followed suit. There were guards at her pod entrance – there were guards at every pod – that was unusual, but no doubt a regular occurrence now in the new Empire.

They were unchallenged as they went back to Padmé’s office. Bail locked the door behind them.

“Can we talk freely?” he whispered.

Padmé looked around her office, up into the corners where she knew the security recorders were. All senators had the ability to disable their own in case they had personal matters to attend to. She wanted to trust her privacy would still be ensured if she disabled them, but she couldn’t. “I’m afraid not.” Still, she opened the security panel under her desk and keyed in the code.

Bail nodded grimly. He picked up a small datapad and wrote a message as he spoke. “I need to return to Alderaan, I should be there for my people in this time of change. I plan to leave as soon as possible.” He handed Padmé his message.

Padmé took a second to read before replying. “I agree with you. This transition will go much smoother on Naboo if I am there to guide the changes.”

Padmé erased Bail’s note. She was considering completely wiping the pad’s memory when suddenly her vision swam and she became incredibly light headed. She dropped the pad, and reached out for something to grab onto. It was crushed underfoot as she stumbled backwards into her desk and Bail rushed to brace her.

“Are you alright?” Organa asked, practically carrying her over to a chair.

Padmé took a couple seconds to respond, waiting for the room to stop spinning. “Yes, yes, I was ill last week, I’m still recovering.” It was a lie, but even with the galaxy crashing down around her ears, Padmé was not about to admit she was pregnant to anyone. Not until she told Anakin first.

“Should I call for a med droid?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’d rather just go home.”

“Let me take you, I have my speeder here.”

“Thank you.” Padmé unsteadily got to her feet. Her head was no longer spinning, but she felt weak and shaky.

Bail hovered close as they left Padmé’s office. He kept one hand on Padmé’s arm, bracing her, ready to support her if she felt faint again. The hallways were active, people finally left the assembly, but they went unbothered until they reached the speeder bay. Senate guards stopped them as they neared the doors.

“Where are you going?” they challenged.

“Senator Amidala is unwell. I am escorting her home.” Bail explained.

For the first time ever, Padmé hoped she looked as bad as she felt. No doubt Palpatine wanted all Senators in the building until he could be sure to weed out the loyalists from the dissenters. He wouldn’t want any seeds of rebellion escaping his grasp.

“ID’s please.”                                                                                                              

Bail and Padmé produced their identichips. They cleared. It was suspicious, but dwelling on it made Padmé’s head spin.

“Feel better, Senator.” One of the guards called after them as Bail summoned his speeder.

“Why did they let us go?” Padmé asked, as Bail steered his speeder out into the morning air of Coruscant. The fresh air helped her feel a little better.

Bail let the speeder’s autopilot guide them back to Padmé’s building. He twisted his goatee nervously. “I doubt it’s because Palpatine trusts us. He’s probably hoping we might lead him to any remaining Jedi.”

“That’s a risky gamble to take.”

“You were friends with some Jedi. If any escaped, they might seek political asylum on friendly planets. Skywalker was your friend, wasn’t he? If anyone else could survive this betrayal, I would put money on him. Have you heard from him recently?”

Padmé watched the traffic around them. Her face gave nothing away of the painful clenching in her heart whenever her thoughts turned back to her husband. “No, I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Not since he rescued the Chancellor.”

Why was lying about Anakin so easy to do? Had she been doing it for so long it became second nature?

The two were silent for a moment, processing their own thoughts.

“You should go home, Padmé. Return to Naboo,” Organa warned grimly. “The galaxy is about to be violently ripped apart. I don’t want to see you caught in the crossfire.”

Padmé glared at her friend. “I still have my duty to-“

“To what? The Republic? It’s gone, Padmé, it’s dead. You and I might escape Palpatine’s axe because we didn’t put our names on the Delegation’s list. But I know you have been a vocal protestor of Palpatine for the last couple years. He could come for you. So go home, protect yourself, hide away. I’ll come find you again when the dust has settled.”

“What about the Jedi, Bail? I can help you.”

“The Jedi have been warned away from Coruscant. Masters Obi-Wan and Yoda are taking care of it. And when they’re done, I can get them to safety.”

Padmé slumped in her seat in defeat. Putting herself in harm’s way was foolish; particularly since it wasn’t just her life at risk anymore. “You’re right. Naboo would be the best place to wait out this storm.”

Bail nodded and the speeder turned out of traffic to approach the apartment speeder bay. “Just be careful, Padmé. Watch yourself. You never know who might be following you.”

“I know how to be discreet, Bail.”

Bail landed smoothly in the speeder bay. He insisted on escorting Padmé up to her apartment until a pair of her personal guards came forward. Padmé thanked him, and they parted with the promise to see each other later.

The guards dutifully escorted Padmé up to her apartment, where she locked them out.  She collapsed onto her couch with a heavy sigh. C-3PO was quick to tend to her, bearing a tray of food and drink, reminding her with much concern that she had not eaten since the previous night.

All she wanted to do was chase after Anakin and take him away to Naboo; to the quiet, perfect tranquility of the lake country. Where they wouldn’t have to hide, where they could be a family, where they wouldn’t be slaves to this new Empire. It took all her self-control to not take her ship, get Anakin from Mustafar, and leave everything behind.

Then Obi-Wan came for a visit.

Padmé was so relieved to see him alive. Bail’s note had told her that he had intercepted Master Yoda and Obi-Wan before they walked into the trap at the Temple. But being told that he was alive and well was not the same as seeing it for herself. She didn’t believe what Palpatine had said about the Jedi. She couldn’t, but she knew Jedi were being killed, hunted, executed. If anyone could have escaped though, it would have been Obi-Wan.

She was so happy to see him that she greeted him with a hug that surprised even her. “Thank the goddess you’re alright!”

Obi-Wan detached himself from the hug, and looked at Padmé gravely. “Have you seen Anakin, recently? Do you know where he is?”

Padmé wanted to believe that Obi-Wan was asking only out of concern for Anakin, but given what she’d learned since this morning and what Anakin had told her the night before… she knew better. “No.”

“Padmé, you must help me find him. Anakin has to be stopped.” Obi-Wan didn’t look well. He was tired and hurt; he still bore the marks and scars of his latest battles. He looked old and weary.

“Stopped? Obi-Wan he’s won the war, what’s there to be stopped?” Padmé knew she sounded incredibly naïve, and Obi-Wan wasn’t falling for it. She sat gingerly on the couch; Obi-Wan followed her lead.

Obi-Wan paused, as if having to prepare himself for what he was about to admit. “Anakin has fallen to the Dark Side.”

Padmé shook her head emphatically. “No, that’s not possible, not Anakin…” She wanted to believe her words, but she couldn’t. Anakin’s change since he came home, his obsession with power, with growing stronger all to save her. She didn’t know much about being a Jedi and the light and dark sides, but Anakin had told her some things…

“It’s not possible,” she whispered pleadingly.

Obi-Wan was clearly pained by this, but he continued. “I have seen security holograms at the Temple. Anakin lead the attack, he- he murdered younglings. He was carrying out Palpatine’s orders.”

“Palpatine?”

“He is the Sith Lord.”

Finally all of the pieces began to fall into place, Palpatine’s eager desire to hold onto power, his insistence that the elimination of the Jedi was necessary and good, the war, all of the people who had died… it all made sense now. And Anakin had been manipulated right into the middle of it.

Obi-Wan gave Padmé a moment to absorb the information. “You see now, I must stop Anakin.”

Padmé gave the Jedi a sharp look. “You’re going to kill him aren’t you?” Obi-Wan didn’t have to answer her. Indignation and protectiveness coursed through Padmé and she leapt to her feet. “How could you even think of that? You were his mentor, Obi-Wan! You’re his best friend, his brother! How… how can you think of killing him?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t look at Padmé anymore. “I wish there was another way. But that Dark Side is powerful. Even if we were to bring him back, Palpatine’s hold is too strong. Eventually, Anakin would fall again… Padmé, embracing the dark side is a _choice,_ Anakin wasn’t forced into this. He chose it. Anakin is as good as gone. For the good of the Republic, for the entire galaxy, he must be stopped at all costs. Which is why I must find him as soon as possible.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know he wouldn’t come back.” Padmé shook her hear again; her anger giving way to shock and sorrow. She sank back down into the chair. “I can’t. I can’t help you with this. I… I’m…I can’t help you kill him.”

Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know you care for him dearly, Padmé. I am truly sorry.” Without another word, he turned and left.

Padmé watched his speeder disappear. _Anakin chose this…_ This had happened because of her, because of Anakin’s nightmares about her. He had chosen to act as he did, to do what Obi-Wan said he had done all to protect her. Did Anakin really believe that her life was more valuable than those of all the Jedi, of the younglings? Did he do all those things without even knowing of the baby?

_Oh, Anakin what have you done?_

Then with grim determination, she rose sharply and marched into her room. Obi-Wan may think Anakin is beyond help, but she had one more card to play. One thing Anakin could never resist: their child.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter woo!  
> I hope you all are enjoying the story thus far. We've reached the end of Episode 3 and finally get to step into uncharted territory. Now we get to get into the good stuff.  
> Thanks for reading and all the kudos! You guys have no idea how much those help me keep writing.
> 
> -The Beckster

**Chapter 2**

Obi-Wan had never felt so heavy hearted, so exhausted, so defeated, so old. He could still hear Anakin; his screams cutting through the din. Or perhaps it was all in his head. No doubt he would be hearing that cry in his mind for a long, long time.

He had thought about going back, putting his former padawan out of his misery. Leaving someone to suffer was not the Jedi way… but he couldn’t bring himself to deliver the final blow. Killing him would have been a mercy, and he wasn’t feeling particularly merciful.

Obi-Wan pushed his thoughts away from Anakin and to Padmé. She was alive, he had checked, but who knew what shape she was in. She needed urgent medical attention.

As Obi-Wan trudged back onto the landing platform, he saw C-3PO hurry down the ramp, his arms waving frantically.

“Please hurry, Master Kenobi, Mistress Padmé is not well. Oh, please hurry!”

Obi-Wan ran into the ship. The droids had managed to get Padmé back into the ship and resting on a bench. R2-D2 had procured cool compress and was dabbing at Padmé’s forehead with it, he beeped and whined sorrowfully.

Padmé was still unconscious, her breathing was labored and wheezing, her pulse fluttering and weak. He tried to rouse her, she didn’t stir. Obi-Wan’s heart clenched painfully. _No, please no. No more loss today._

C-3P0 had already started up the ship’s engines. Obi-Wan rushed to the cockpit to put in the coordinates for Polis Massa. They passed an incoming shuttle in the upper atmosphere. Obi-Wan could feel Palpatine’s cold shadow in the Force, but that wasn’t important at the moment. Padmé needed medical attention, and she’d get it on Polis Massa. Obi-Wan just hoped she would last that long. Her physical injuries were beyond his ability to treat, especially with the ship’s meager first aid kit. As for her emotional injuries… Obi-Wan could sense her turmoil on the way to Mustafar. Anakin turning on her would only make it worse.

Padmé was still unconscious when they reached the asteroid colony. Obi-Wan carried her off the ship before C-3P0 could even fully power down the engines. Bail Organa rushed to meet them. He led the way to the medical center.

Padmé was immediately taken to the surgical theater. The med droids set to work on her with quick efficiency. Within minutes, she was resuscitated, a breathing tube in her throat and Bacta injections working their magic. They stabilized her, took blood samples, and made her comfortable. She was in the surgical ward for less than fifteen minutes.

“Her trachea was nearly crushed,” the med droid explained quietly to Obi-Wan and Bail. “The tube will be necessary for a little while until the Bacta has repaired the damaged tissue. She has been mildly sedated to avoid irritation from the tube. We will take her to a private room to recover. To avoid upsetting her, we recommend she does not receive visitors until the tube is out.”

“When will that be?” Organa asked, watching another med droid push the gurney down the hall.

“A little over than an hour, the Bacta works quickly.”

“Thank you,” the senator acknowledged quietly. The med droid turned and followed its counterpart down the hall. As soon as the med droid was out of sight Bail turned on Obi-Wan. “Why was she hurt? Why was Padmé involved in this?”

Obi-Wan studied the senator sorrowfully. “Padmé and Anakin have had a long standing friendship, and more, ever since they first met. I believe she thought she could reach him in a way no one else could. She went to confront him, but Anakin’s fear and paranoia overpowered his love for her. He attacked her when he saw me. He thought she had betrayed him. I never thought he could have done that… I thought that hurting Padmé was beyond anything he could have ever done, even in his current state. If I had thought that Anakin could have hurt her I never would have let her leave the ship.”

Bail softened with a sorrowful sigh. “I don’t think Padmé expected Anakin would hurt her either. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gone.”

A tense hour passed. Bail and Obi-Wan moved to a conference room where Yoda joined them. Both Jedi admitted to their failures. They tried to plan the next move. A med droid interrupted them, informing them that Padmé would like to speak to Obi-Wan.

When Obi-Wan entered the recovery room, he stopped, slightly shocked. Padmé was sitting at the side of the bed, one hand clutching at a blanket draped over her shoulders, the other hand rubbed at her bruised throat, silent tears streaming down her face. Obi-Wan had never seen Padmé cry. She was an emotional rock, she had to be, it was part of being queen and a politician. She usually had as solid a hold on her emotions as many Jedi did. Seeing her like this, she looked so young.

“I’ve been married to Anakin for the last three years,” she stated as soon as the door closed, without any preamble. Her voice was weak and raspy. “We got married just after Geonosis.”

Obi-Wan should have been surprised, but somehow… “I know.” It was like he had always known. The signs had always been there, he had just denied himself the truth in a subconscious effort to protect Anakin. If he had allowed suspicion to take hold he would have been duty bound to report to the Council.

Padmé’s eyes shifted from staring at the wall to Obi-Wan. “Is Anakin alright?”

“I’m afraid Anakin, as we know him, is dead, Padmé. He’s gone, there’s only Vader left.”

“But is he alright?”

“I left him badly injured. As we were leaving Palpatine was coming for him, but Anakin is gone, Padmé.”

Padmé looked away again, shaking her head. “No… my Anakin is still in there. I know he is.”

“Padmé, he almost killed you!”

“I know!” Padmé met Obi-Wans eyes. In them he could see the raw pain of Anakin’s betrayal, the fear and the fire it now fed. “But I also know that there’s still good in him. Someone as loving and caring as Anakin doesn’t just disappear like that.”

Obi-Wan didn’t agree with her, but he didn’t want to argue. She couldn’t sense the loss of Anakin in the Force. She couldn’t feel that there was nothing of him left. Anakin was gone, he was dead to him. His brother might still be alive in body, but the person he had been was gone. There was no sense in holding onto that memory in hopes that he might still be there. It wasn’t the Jedi way.

Padmé took a deep, shaking breath; tears swam in her eyes again. “I’m pregnant with twins. Anakin is the father.”

Obi-Wan had not been expecting that.

Pregnant? Padmé was pregnant! _Oh Anakin!_ It was bad enough that Anakin had a secret, forbidden wife, but he had to go and father children too?

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released the shock.  He sat next to Padmé and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Did Anakin know?”

Padmé shook her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and a few tears fell. “No. I went to Mustafar to tell him. I thought it would bring him back, but he… I didn’t get the chance.”

“How long?”

“Just shy of twelve weeks.”

A heavy silence fell in the room for several minutes. Finally Padmé spoke up. “So what happens next?”

 

**XXXXX**

“Is this really necessary?” Bail Organa watched uneasily as Padmé prepared herself for her own funeral.

“To hide and protect my children from the Empire I must fake my death.”

“But we’ve already done that, the news is all over the Holonet.”

It had only been a few days since the fall of the Republic. But once it was determined that Padmé had to hide from the Empire the false news had spread like fire.

In the waning hours of the war, beloved Senator from Naboo Padmé Amidala had been ambushed on the streets of Coruscant and killed by Separatists. Much of the galaxy was in mourning, not just Naboo. Already plans for a memorial were being drawn up for the senate building.

Padmé frown deepened as she played with her necklace – the small japoor carving Anakin had made for her all those years ago. “My people deserve some closure. And not having a traditional funeral would be far too conspicuous.”

She studied her reflection in a mirror, her fingers tracing the dark bruises across her neck. Her veil would cover them, nobody else would see. Padmé thought using makeup to cover them was unnecessary, but the longer she stared at them, the more she wished she had. Anakin may not have used his bare hands to try and kill her, but his crushing Force had done plenty of physical damage.

The shuttle shuddered slightly as it entered the atmosphere. With a heavy heart, Padmé lifted her mourning veil over her head. The ship made landfall, she and Organa disembarked. They were met immediately by several of Padmé’s handmaidens. They were of the few who were privy to the true fate of Padmé Amidala. As soon as they touched ground, the shuttle left, and Bail moved onto another transport. As a close friend of Padmé’s he had been invited to partake in the funeral procession, but his preparations would take place elsewhere.

Sabé had volunteered to act as Padmé’s body double one last time. She would be lying in the casket; Padmé would take her place as a pallbearer. As was traditional, the handmaidens alone would inter their beloved queen. They would seal an empty tomb. Then with a quick change of clothes for Sabé, they would all leave together. Nobody would notice one extra handmaiden. They never had before.

Sabé was already dressed for the funeral, the casket lay waiting. Padmé knew there would be a little time until the procession. Presumably, the handmaidens needed time for final preparations with the body. The procession would be long and slow, winding through Theed and to the royal catacombs. Sabé had a sedative; it wouldn’t knock her out, but it would keep her relaxed so she wouldn’t move.

Padmé faced her handmaidens, her best friends, her sisters in arms. They had all been through so much together. They had trained together, they had saved Naboo from the Trade Federation together, they had grown up together. Padmé knew that each and every one of these women before her had freely vowed to give their lives for her protection, and that vow was not something they took lightly. Her heart clenched painfully, full or love and sorrow for these women before her. They weren’t going to like Padmé’s final instructions.

“Dark times have befallen the galaxy, our beloved Republic is gone. I talk to you now, not as your Queen, and not as your Senator, but as your friend. You all have given me more than I could ever hope to repay. I will forever be in your debt. I have one final request of you to help in some small part to alleviate my debt to you. Protect yourself, please. I will not tell you of my plans for the future, not because I don’t trust you, but because I finally have the opportunity to protect you. Return to your homes and your families and think no more of Padmé Amidala. A time may come when the Empire grows suspicious, and I want you to be as safe as possible. Padmé Amidala is dead, she will be buried today and remain forever in the catacombs. That is the end of what you know. I know you would all take my secret to your graves, but I cannot bear to add more secrets to your burden. Please. Stay safe, protect yourselves from the Empire.”

Padmé watched her handmaidens take her words to heart. They didn’t like it, she could see that clearly. They had never been ones for inaction, particularly in the face of a threat like the Empire. But they all knew Padmé was right, the Empire was too dangerous, and they would already be under close enough scrutiny for the foreseeable future. They would follow Padmé Amidala’s last request.

Padmé knew that they had already conferred on their own cover stories for Padmé’s death. A fool-proof tale they could spin to convince even the most rigorous lie detectors, or probing force-sensitive. There would be no leaks from the former handmaidens of Queen and Senator Amidala.

 

Attending her own funeral was a very surreal experience for Padmé. She had never seen the streets of Theed so crowded and so quiet. She recognized many faces, friends in the Senate, politicians she worked with as Queen, old friends from school, Gungans, several other off-planet visitors. Some she knew were there for political duty, but it still amazed her how any lives she had touched.

 Padmé knew it would be difficult, and she had prepared herself to see her family, but it still hit her hard. It was like a knife twisting in her heart. Her mother gripped her father’s arm, leaning against him for support. They both had an emptiness in their eyes, and a hollowness in their cheeks. Padmé could tell neither of them had eaten much, if anything in the past few days. Her sister held her daughters tight; she looked like she was barely holding herself together. Padmé watched from a distance, as her family had a private moment with the casket. Sabé had been so heavily made up that Padmé knew even her family wouldn’t recognize she was the double.

She wished there was a way she could reach out to her family, tell them she was still alive, ease their pain. She couldn’t though. She couldn’t let them know the truth. Palpatine probably knew she was still alive, and he would be looking for her. She had to protect her family; she had to keep them in the dark. They couldn’t tell a secret they didn’t know.

It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I've been sitting on this chapter for a few months. I got moderately sidetracked.  
> Not much to say about this one. Transition chapter is transition chapter. Still, I hope you all enjoy it!  
> -Becks

**Chapter 3**

 

When it really came down to it, being dead wasn’t all that bad. Padmé had freedom and anonymity; she could do whatever she needed to spark the rebellion. She had a new name now – Teckla Thorne – and a new job in a service position in the Alderaanian royal palace under the Queen. Of course that was all a front. Behind closed doors she would confer with the Queen and Bail on the best strategies for rebellion. Padmé could devote all her time and effort into this.

Bail didn’t have that freedom; he had to keep up appearances in the Imperial Senate. Padmé thought his role was the much more difficult one to play.

It became apparent from the beginning that an armed rebellion would not be possible so early in the game. Not only had the Clone Wars decimated many planets’ militaries and fighting forces, but it had also shown the galaxy the strength of the Empire’s clone army. Many systems were reluctant to send their soldiers back into war, and those that would have eagerly fought against the Empire were either embroiled in their own civil disputes, like Mandalore, or had quickly been set upon by Imperial forces.

It was no secret that Geonosis had been completely invaded by the Empire’s forces as soon as the droids had been shut down. It was a planet-wide extermination. The planet had been bombed to an uninhabitable husk. The Geonosians were no more.

No, open war was not the best option for the rebellion. For now their game was to lay in silence, waiting, plotting, slowly gathering support, supplies, and forces to their cause; slow enough the Empire wouldn’t notice until it was too late. Lucky for the Rebellion, Padmé was an expert negotiator, and they had a decent starting point.

The Delegation of Two Thousand—2000 systems of the Republic who had been vocally opposed to Palpatine’s ruling. Yes, they were obvious targets of the Empire. Many of the senators no longer held their position in the new Imperial Senate, but they still held some influence over their home worlds. It was still too early for Palpatine to outright execute his political opponents.

There were also the systems whose senators had been wary of adding their names to the Delegation, such as Alderaan. She had to reach them sooner, rather than later.

Then there were Separatists systems. People who did not want to be part of the Republic, and were probably strongly opposed to being part of the new Empire. No doubt Imperial forces had already moved into them, and Governors appointed directly by Palpatine were in power, but there would be underground dissenters gathering. They could be influenced to join the Rebellion as well.

And there were systems whose senators were in the Emperor’s pocket, but the people were not. They would be the hardest to get to, and they would take time to reach, but they weren’t lost, not entirely.

Padmé had no doubt that all across the galaxy there were other cells of rebellion forming. Small secret groups, gathering in seedy bars and people’s homes, trying to figure out how they can fight this new Empire. This would be how the Rebellion grew. It couldn’t amass on a single, center point; that would be too obvious. It had to be numerous small cells, each doing what they can to hurt the Empire, but they still had to be united. There had to be a solid base for them to call back to, a rally point when the time was right, so they could know they weren’t alone in this fight. And Padmé would be right in the center of it all, coordinating, communicating, leading. It was what she was best at.

And thus, her Rebel persona was born.

The Conductor: prone to wearing heavy, dark cloaks and hoods, a voice modulating mask covering most of their face. Rumors were quick to spread amongst dissenting cells. Sometimes they were tall, imposing, and powerful; sometimes they were diminutive, unassuming, and passive. They were a dead shot with a blaster, and quite capable of fending for themselves when the need arose. The way they spoke to the budding rebels, the ideas they had, the plans they formed, they were a viable threat to the Empire. And as such, they were the best kept secret of the People. Even amongst those who were not on board with the idea of rebellion, but disliked the Empire just the same kept their secret. The Conductor was never mentioned in mixed company, despite the danger and mystery surrounding them. All who encountered The Conductor felt an inexplicable desire to protect them from the Empire. The Conductor was hope.

Padme’s waking moments were consumed by The Conductor, by the rebellion, by undermining the Empire. The work kept her busy and distracted; it gave her goals to work towards and missions to accomplish. While she was busy she could almost pretend that things were alright, that she wasn’t torn apart inside, that her grief wasn’t bleeding like an open wound. And it worked wonderfully. Padme knew how to put up a front, how to put on a mask of strength, how to appear to be solid as a rock. She’d been playing that role almost all her life, it was easy.

But behind closed doors, in the dark, quiet of the night, Padme’s facades crumbled. Her grief consumed her. She grieved for Anakin, for what they had, and what they could have had. She grieved for the death of the Republic, and all the people that had died and would die because of it. She grieved for her family, thinking that she was dead, never being able to know otherwise. Sometimes her grief subsided, and her fear overwhelmed her. Fear of the unknown, fear of the future, fear for her children, for the other innocents their rebellion may put in harm’s way, fear for Anakin, fear _of_ Anakin.

More often than not, Padme cried well into the night.

And then there was the _feeling_. It would creep upon her slowly, like a sickness in the night. It was a cold, empty despair. It sank into Padme’s very core, into her heart, into her thoughts. It sapped her energy, her motivation. Sometimes she almost thought she could hear a voice, not her own, but a croaking, infernal voice, whispering suggestions when things were quiet and she was alone.

_What was the purpose of putting all this effort into the rebellion? It was bound to fail. Why should she still have so much faith in democracy when it had so obviously failed? She was so tired, she was working so hard, wouldn’t it be nice to just lie down and never get up again? Wouldn’t it be nice to just remove herself from this hardship, from this heartbreak and fade away?_

But Padme wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t allow that voice to win. She could feel whatever it was, seeping into her soul, trying to take her strength, but she clenched her fists, and held on tighter. She had two ever growing, ever present reasons to stay strong, to continue with this rebellion. Yes, it would be hard, and the odds were not in their favor, but Padme would do anything to secure a safe future for her children.

So she ignored the voice, and every morning she pulled herself out of bed, forcing her heavy limbs to move. She was always tired—due in equal parts to her poor sleep and her pregnancy—she had learned to live with it. And the voice would fade as she prepared for another day, and the cold despair would leave her heart, only to return again when she was alone at night.

And so it went, for a couple months Padme quietly shouldered her grief. She knew she could probably talk to Obi-Wan about it, her fears, her grief, the voice and feeling, but he was also mourning. She wanted to give him the space he needed to grieve. She knew he was in pain, as he knew she was, and when the time was right, they’d both talk about it.

She managed until one very bad day in one particularly long week.

There had been rumors of a rebel cell on Lassan. The Conductor was going to investigate and let the Lassat know they were not alone.

Padme didn’t know much about the Lassat, but she knew they were a proud race of warriors. If they could be convinced to join the Rebellion it would help immensely. She was eager to reach out to them.

Padme fidgeted impatiently as she waited for the ship to be prepped.

“Relax, Padme,” Obi-Wan said calmly beside her. “Pacing will not make the ship refuel any faster.”

Padme sighed. “I’m just anxious to get to Lassan. I want to get to the before the Empire does.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” a man’s voice interrupted.

Both Padme and Obi-Wan turned around. Captain Antilles looked mournful.

“I just received word from Senator Organa. The Empire heard about the Lassat rebellion. They purged the planet.”

Padme felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Suddenly she felt the _feeling_ creep upon her. “Purged?”

“It was a planet wide genocide of the Lassat. Rumors are any survivors that are off planet are also being hunted. Lassan’s whole system has been quarantined.”

“Just like Geonosis,” Obi-Wan muttered.

Antilles nodded grimly. “It’s obvious now that Palpatine is showing his strength. Nobody cared about the Geonosians. Lassan is an obvious message that nobody is safe if they declare open rebellion.

_Do you see now? Your rebellion is hopeless. It’s useless. You can’t change anything. You can’t protect anyone. Give up now. You have no meaning, no purpose._

Padme tried to ignore the voice, but it had never spoken to her during the day before. It felt worse, colder, more sickening, stronger; almost as if it had anticipated this moment, waiting to strike. It felt like a physical blow, striking ice deep into her heart. Numbness spread through her body, muffling her hearing, hazing her vision. She needed to go somewhere private, where she could deal with these feelings until they passed.

Padme muttered what she hoped was a coherent “excuse me,” before brushing past Obi-Wan and Antilles. She ducked into the first empty room she could find, a small conference room. The door had barely closed behind her when it slid open to reveal a very concerned Obi-Wan.

“Padme, are you alright?”

Padme nodded, offering her automatic response. “I’ll be alright. I just need a minute to…”

“I sense the dark side in you.”

That stopped Padme’s train of thought in its tracks. “What?”

“Just after we heard about Lassan, I sensed the dark side rise up in you, that wasn’t there before.”

“The cold. The voice.” Padme swallowed, realizing what that feeling she had been fighting all this time had really been.

A look of deep concern furrowed in Obi-wan’s brow. “How long as this been happening?”

“Since Mustafar, but it only happened at night. I thought I was just depressed and mourning. But how? I’m not Force sensitive.”

“The twins are.”

Padme’s hands automatically moved to cover her stomach. Could Obi-Wan really sense it already? Or was it just an educated guess based on who their father was?

“Palpatine is probably using Vader’s bond with you to reach you.”

“But why? Why would he want to hurt me?”

“You and your children are the greatest threat to his hold on Vader. If he knew you were alive…”

“Anakin would stop at nothing to be with us,” Padme finished for him. “But if Palpatine knows I’m alive, why hasn’t he scoured the galaxy to find me? If he knows I’m a threat, why would he just let me run free?”

“I cannot begin to imagine how a maniac like Palpatine thinks, but it makes sense that he’s staying silent for political reasons. You were a beloved senator and public figure to many in the Republic. Your death was quite a shock, and Palpatine himself made a speech about it. If he acknowledged that you were actually alive it would deal a blow to his already shaky foundation of the people’s trust. And if he says nothing, it means Vader is less likely to find out.”

“So what, he’s going to torment me through the dark side until the twins are born?”

“No quite. I sensed that he took something after his touch receded… almost like he was trying to siphon away your life force.”

“He can do that?” Padme gasped, her arms tightening around her stomach.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but it appears so.”

“Is it hurting the twins?” she asked tremulously.

“No, they seem fine.” Obi-Wan’s voice was tinged with relief. “He seems to be focusing solely on you. He may not know they exist.”

“Can you stop it? Is there any way to keep him out?”

“I can try something. I may be able to block him out using the Force.” Obi-Wan touched his fingers lightly to Padme’s temples. “Try and relax and hold still.”

Padme held her breath and stood as still as she could manage. After a few seconds she felt a strange sensation spread from her temples, down her neck, and into her chest. For several moments, her heart clenched painfully, her chest constricted, forcing the air from her lungs. Padme gasped for breath, but she found it difficult to draw in more air as her throat squeezed shut. Obi-Wan scowled and his fingers pressed harder against Padme’s temples. Whatever hold Palpatine had on her, he wasn’t giving it up easily.

Just ad Padme’s lungs began to burn and scream for oxygen, her airway cleared and her chest loosened. Obi-Wan released her and stepped back, taking slow, deep breaths. Padme gulped in the cool, recycled air of the ship. At that moment it tasted almost as sweet as the air of Naboo. One of her hands reached up to her throat while the other brushed away the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes. She could live for another hundred years and she’d never forget the feel of the Force at her throat. As she caught her breath, Padme prayed to every god she knew that she would never have to feel that grip again.

“That should do the trick. I think I got him out,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. “But you must tell me if you ever feel his presence again, Padme. A Sith as strong as Palpatine knows how to hide and deceive.”

Padme nodded. “I will. I won’t let him hurt me, or my children.” She paused for a moment to evaluate how she felt without Palpatine lurking in the back of her mind. The heaviness in her heart hadn’t dissipated – she hadn’t expected it too – but instead of a shadow of despair always looming at the back of her thoughts she felt a flicker of optimism and courage.

Palpatine could not take her life or her children’s. His grip was no unbreakable, his power was not absolute. He could be defeated.

And he would.


End file.
